And a Love Time Can Never Destroy
by Liete
Summary: -UK/US/UK, delinquent AU- Snapshots of the day-to-day lives of a troubled delinquent and an overwhelmed student trying to make their relationship work.
1. Smile

**Smile  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N:****Rating for future stories.** I was going to wait to do this, but since the story is winding down anyway, I might as well. This will be where I will post the mostly plot-less ficlets and other side stories for my Delinquent AU. Because there are plenty of side things I want to write for this AU, but I don't want to clog up the main storyline fic when people may not want to read them. :)  


**As such, hopefully these will be understandable and enjoyable regardless of whether you've read the main storyline or not.  
**

* * *

"I think we should take a break soon."

Arthur stops dusting and turns to raise an eyebrow at Alfred. Alfred beams back at him.

"Weren't you the one who said we needed to get this cleaning done?"

Alfred shrugs and lowers his own cloth. "Well yeah, but I didn't realize just how much _work_ this spring cleaning thing is. I think we should take a break and go get ice cream!"

Alfred smiles as brightly as he can at Arthur, who stares back at him with an unimpressed look on his face. Arthur finally rolls his eyes and resumes dusting.

"We started this, Alfred, we have to finish it," Arthur says, and Alfred deflates. He pouts as he lifts the cloth to wipe at the windows again.

"This is boring! I'd rather spend my time with you doing something fun." Alfred watches as Arthur's shoulders slump and he turns around with an exasperated look on his face.

"But if we finish the work, then any time we spend together later will be much more satisfying, won't it?"

Arthur's face softens into an open-mouthed smile when he asks it, and Alfred's heart skips a beat. It's not a big smile—it's small and soft, but Arthur never shows his teeth when he smiles. It's not the sort of thing that Arthur would probably want to hear, but Alfred believes that Arthur has a beautiful smile.

And in that moment, Alfred is suddenly overwhelmed by how much he loves Arthur that, before he thinks about what he's doing, he crosses the room and sweeps Arthur into his arms. Arthur starts to question him, but Alfred cuts him off with a kiss. Arthur stiffens at first, but he relaxes shortly after and kisses back.

Alfred marginally regrets kissing Arthur and cutting off that smile, but he can't regret it for very long when Arthur is clinging to him and kissing back—and it's better than cleaning, anyway. At length, Arthur pulls away and furrows his brow.

"And what was that for?"

"…you have a nice smile," Alfred replies, a sheepish smile on his face.

Arthur blinks then his face starts to turn red. He scowls as he removes Alfred's arms and continues dusting.

"…don't be foolish. Get back to work."

Even turned around, Alfred can see that Arthur's ears are slightly red and he grins to himself, casually walking back to the windows to resume wiping them.


	2. One Finger Technique

**One-Finger Technique  
**

* * *

"Hey, Arthur! Someone's got a question for you!"

Alfred plops down on the couch next to Arthur, who sighs as he lowers his needlepoint to take the laptop out of Alfred's hands. He stares at the screen and scowls.

"Do I play with your hair? Hmph. What a foolish question."

Regardless, Arthur settles himself in his usual way—one hand grips firmly at the side of the laptop while the other curls into a first, leaving only his index finger extended. He pokes at one of the keys, slowly scanning the keyboard until he finds the next key he needs, repeating the motion over and over. He furrows his eyebrows and frowns, and Alfred can't help but smile to himself.

This time, though, Alfred has other plans. From his pocket he retrieves his camera and he holds it up, knowing that Arthur is too deep in concentration to notice that he's being recorded. Alfred bites back a snicker as Arthur chews on his lip, still slowly poking at the keys with only one finger. No matter how often he uses a computer, his typing never improves.

"Alfred, I need you to hold down…" Arthur turns to look at him, moving the laptop, and Alfred grins back. Arthur's face pales slightly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm documenting the computing habits of the rare and fabled Arthur Kirkland! It's too cute an opportunity to pass up!"

Arthur's cheeks turn bright red and he throws the laptop at Alfred. He opens his mouth as if to yell, but then he closes it, standing up in one swift movement instead. "You are an ass."

Alfred flinches as the laptop hits him, but then he gawks as Arthur walks away. He quickly switches off the camera before he starts to pursue the retreating Arthur. "Hey, come on, I was just messing around, don't be mad!"

Arthur grumbles before ducking into the spare bedroom, closing the door in Alfred's face. Alfred lifts his hand to knock on the door, but pulls back instead. He has a better idea. He walks back to the kitchen and pulls out the tea kettle to boil some water. After pulling a teacup out of one of the cabinets, he nods to himself.

"Hey sweetheart, I got that tea you like!" When silence answers his shouting, he pulls out his trump card. "And it's loose leaf this time!"

Silence follows again at first, but then Alfred hears the bedroom door opening and Arthur eventually appears, still looking irritated, but curious. Arthur's eyes scan the room, finally falling on the kettle and teacup.

"…you're steeping it wrong again."

"Oh, sorry," Alfred says with a smile, stepping aside as Arthur crosses the room to save the cup of tea.

When Arthur sets the cup down after taking a sip, Alfred wraps his arms around Arthur from behind and rests his chin on Arthur's shoulder.

"You're not actually mad, right?" He uses his best "don't hate me, I'm cute" pout, even though he knows Arthur can't actually see it.

Arthur's cheeks still redden, but he lifts one of his hands, grasping Alfred's arms. "…if you do that again, I will kill you."

Alfred laughs and nuzzles Arthur's cheek, ignoring how Arthur swats at him. "Fair enough!"

* * *

**A/N: Based on a pic a friend submitted to my D!AU ask blog at tumblr. If you're interested, it's at askdelinquentau. tumblr. com! **

**But my primary announcement here is that I had already removed my explicit fics from this website before the crackdown began. From now on, anything explicit will be posted to my writing LJ (username _secretcurrents_) and I will slowly be uploading things to my AO3 account, as well (username _Liete_). This is more as a precautionary step since my account is nearly twelve years old and I'd rather not be banned for something that could be fixed.  
**


	3. Happy Birthday!

**Happy Birthday!  
**

**A/N: A quick little fic for Alfred's birthday, featuring a very dere Arthur. :)  
**

* * *

Alfred twitches and reaches up to scratch at his nose when something pokes at his face. Before he can fall back asleep, something pokes him again. He scrunches up his face and grumbles, but it's interrupted by a soft voice singing beside him.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Alfred. Happy birthday to you."

Alfred opens his eyes, grabbing his glasses before he rolls over to see Arthur sitting on the bed next to him with a soft smile on his face and fondness in his eyes. Alfred quickly sits up, beaming.

"Aww, Arthur! Singing for me and everything?"

Arthur looks away, though he's still smiling. "I also got you this."

Alfred lets out an _oof!_ as a McDonald's bag is slammed against his chest. He opens the bag to reveal an egg McMuffin and hash browns. He closes the bag and pretends to sniffle at Arthur.

"Aww, sweetheart, you're the best! But weren't we going out for breakfast?"

Arthur turns back to look at him, his smile widening a little. "Yes, but I know that one little sandwich won't be enough to satisfy you."

Alfred sets the bag to the side and grabs Arthur, pulling him into a bear hug. Arthur doesn't flail or grumble, instead just returning the hug, and while Alfred grins like an idiot for a moment as he enjoys the simple pleasure of being wrapped up in each other, something occurs to him. Arthur certainly has his affectionate moments, but such blatant and open affection usually accompanies only one thing.

Alfred pulls back and presses his palm to Arthur's forehead, leaning in to look at his face. "You aren't sick, are you?"

"No." Arthur shakes his head. His eyes soften. "I just love you."

It's such a blunt statement that Alfred blushes and looks to the side. He clears his throat and Arthur laughs.

"I know it won't be long, but I'll wait until you've finished your breakfast. I think I've figured out how to get this coffee maker to work so I can have some tea, cheap though it may be."

Arthur pulls away and Alfred manages to regain his composure.

"Hey, don't break it. I'd rather that the one big thing I remember about this vacation not be that you blew up the coffee maker."

Arthur turns to give him a pointed look, and Alfred shrugs, smiling. Arthur rolls his eyes, but smiles back, and Alfred knows it's going to be a good day as he pulls out his hash browns.


	4. Like the Sunshine

**Like the Sunshine**

**A/N: You might have read this one already, but now I'm uploading it in the right place!  
**

* * *

"Afternoon, Eyebrow Bastard."

Arthur doesn't look up, knowing that it's Angelique taking a seat next to him. He keeps his attention on his phone and the smiley-riddled message from Alfred he's been slowly replying to even as she shoves a sandwich into his lap. She briefly peeks over his shoulder then quickly pulls back when he turns to glare at her.

"You know, I really never would have pegged you for the committed type."

He puts his phone back in his pocket and peels off the saran wrap covering the sandwich, wrinkling his nose as he tries to identify the type of fish. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's tuna, it won't kill you," Angelique says after Arthur continues to inspect his sandwich. "And I don't know, you seemed like the rebel without a cause, didn't care about anyone or anything type. I'd been hoping I'd be the one to get you to open up, but someone else beat me to the punch. Figures he'd be good looking."

Arthur huffs and takes a bite of the sandwich. He cringes at how watery it is, but it's not enough to make the sandwich inedible. "Are you faulting Alfred for being attractive?"

"No, just wondering how a nice guy like that managed to fall for a jerk like you."

Arthur doesn't respond, since he also wonders how he managed to attract Alfred enough that Alfred fell in love with him. Angelique needn't know how insecure he still is about that, however, and he simply shakes his head.

They eat in silence for a few moments, and Arthur makes an off-hand comment about how Angelique is incapable of even making a proper tuna sandwich, earning a punch to the shoulder. Arthur picks up the bottle of water he'd purchased earlier and takes a drink at precisely the wrong moment.

"Do you want to marry him?"

Arthur inhales too sharply and winds up spitting out some of the water and choking on the rest of it. He coughs violently, eventually prompting Angelique to pat him on the back, until he finally gets himself under control enough to give Angelique an incredulous look.

"Why would you ask something as inane as that?!"

"How is it inane? You're in love with him, aren't you? And you guys are living together, so the next logical step would be to get engaged! You know that's legal here." She has a starry look in her eyes, and Arthur isn't sure whether it's because she's picturing her own wedding fantasies or his potential wedding with Alfred. Just the thought makes him blush.

"You only ask because you're a silly girl and _you_ want to get married someday."

"Well, yes, I do! But that doesn't answer my question! What about you? And Alfred?"

Arthur turns away and clears his still water filled throat. Of all the things she could put him on the spot about. Marriage is a thought he's very briefly entertained, only to cram it to the very back of his mind and write it off as ridiculous and impossible. He still can't say with any certainty that he would even think of making that sort of commitment, as it not only means admitting to himself that he wants to spend forever with Alfred, but that he also _believes_ that such a thing is even possible.

On the other hand, he can't ever see himself with anyone else but Alfred. He doesn't want to.

"I…don't know." He straightens up, making his expression as blank as he can manage.

She rolls her eyes and takes a violent bite of her sandwich. "You are so stupid."

"And again, I'm not the one asking inane questions."

"What kind of wishy washy response is 'I don't know'? Seriously."

"An honest one."

"Feh." She stands, crumpling the sandwich wrapper. "Well, I've got to get back to work. You keep being stupid, Eyebrows."

He waves her off, waiting until she vanishes inside the building before he lets his composure drop. He can't stop himself before he starts to have the rather unfortunate thought of Alfred in a tuxedo, a beautiful smile on his face as it flushes with happiness and…

Arthur stands abruptly, walking with brisk, stilted steps to cool his burning face.


	5. Shake Weights

**Shake Weights  
**

**A/N: And here's where that M rating comes into play, ha ha.  
**

* * *

Arthur blinks at the package as the delivery man leaves the building. He has no idea what shake weights are, but there was no reason to not sign for the package since he has the day off and Alfred doesn't. Arthur imagines they are some kind of easy weight loss scheme Alfred's found so he has to spend less time working out. Whatever they are, Arthur takes them upstairs.

The box proves too flimsy to hold their contents, and as soon as Arthur walks in the door to their flat, the weights burst through the bottom of the box to spill onto the floor.

"Damn it."

Arthur swears under his breath as he bends down to pick up one of the weights, but drops it again with a startled noise as it shakes in his hand. Shake weights—of course. He picks it up again, shaking it, and he vaguely recalls something he'd seen or heard about them. He rolls his eyes, dismissing the thought as he cleans up the packaging and weights off the floor.

* * *

Alfred walks in the door, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket as he listens for the familiar sounds that usually signal that Arthur is home and waiting for him. Instead he hears nothing.

"Arthur? You here?"

When there is no response, Alfred sighs and heads for their bedroom, only to pause when he finally hears something—a voice that is lower in pitch than usual.

"Mmm…_ohh_…"

Alfred's eyes widen and he bursts in the door to find Arthur sitting on their bed and wearing no pants or underwear. The movements of his hands in his lap can only mean one thing, and it's something Arthur should have waited until he got home to do.

"H-Hey! You can't do that without…me…"

Alfred trails off, his mouth falling open when Arthur turns around with a satisfied grin on his face, revealing the shake weight in his hand. The same shake weight Alfred had ordered with the intention of doing just that—pretending to get off without Arthur.

Arthur climbs off the bed and walks over to him, lifting his hand and dropping the shake weight into it.

"Welcome home!" he says in a voice that is far more cheerful than usual and then he slips out of the room, leaving Alfred to stare dumbfounded.


	6. Christmas Sweater

**Christmas Sweater  
**

* * *

It is the kind of thing that is born of nightmares—the kind of thing that only happens in movies because it is far too horrifying to be real. Alfred had felt safe in the knowledge that it was something that would never happen to him. What a naïve fool he'd been.

Because of this false sense of security, Alfred is in no way prepared to deal with the inhuman horror that Arthur presents him with one day while he's studying for his finals—an ugly Christmas sweater.

He's very used to Arthur making him things—he has a few scarves and hats that Arthur knitted for him that he wears regularly because they're a lot nicer and a lot warmer than anything he'd bought before. Those, however, are not the brightly colored thing dug from the deepest pits of despair he holds in his hands while Arthur beams at him.

He stares at the reds and greens and whites with patterns of reindeer and Christmas trees and he feels faint. Smack dab in the middle is a large snowman smiling at him—mocking him and laughing at his pain. He wants to punch it in the face.

"Well? What do you think of it?"

Alfred looks up to see Arthur smiling at him, and any other time seeing that smile would make him melt and probably willing to do anything. That would normally be the case, but he's too busy thinking of what he could have possibly done to deserve such a punishment to be affected.

He wonders if he should lie for Arthur's sake because he's an idiot in love and he hates to disappoint Arthur. He also wonders if he should tell the truth that there are very few things he can think of that would be more horrifying than wearing that sweater even just around the apartment. Either way something is lost.

So instead he stares dumbfounded and silent at Arthur, hoping that the matter will somehow be dropped without incident if he waits long enough.

Arthur waits a moment, looking eager and hopeful, but when the silence continues his shoulders droop and the smile is replaced with a crestfallen look. He lowers his head and shakes it, and when he lifts it again Alfred freezes.

He knows that look. He _created_ that look. If he wants Arthur to agree to something silly he pulls out the kicked puppy look, which is exactly the look Arthur is giving him. Almost exactly, except for the fact that Arthur brings a genuine despair to it. He has the thought of what a master of a craft must feel like when the student surpasses them.

"You don't like it. I tried so hard, and your grandmother gave me the pattern, too…"

Alfred chokes. So not only is he letting Arthur down, but it's his _grandmother's_ design. It's like all of the stars and planets are in alignment to kick his ass. His hands shake as they hold the sweater and he fights off the urge to scream in frustration. He finally groans and pulls the sweater over his head.

"I didn't say I didn't like it! I was just…speechless!" Alfred says, struggling not to choke or let his voice crack and reveal that he's actually lying through his teeth.

He makes a mental note to avoid all mirrors so he doesn't have to see what he looks like. He already feels like kicking his own ass just by wearing it. Arthur smiles again, though, and this time that fluttery feeling of happiness returns to Alfred's heart. He pushes down the horrible feeling that if anyone else sees him like this he's never going to hear the end of it and gives Arthur a smile.

"Good, it fits. That should keep you warm while you're studying for your finals, hmm?"

Arthur looks very pleased with himself, but Alfred stomach immediately lurches.

"Oh, I don't know. I was going to go to the library and it gets pretty hot in there, you know?" He laughs, but even he knows it's a sad, unconvincing kind of laugh. Luckily Arthur doesn't seem to notice that part.

"Oh? I thought you said you were always getting cold?" Arthur raises an eyebrow at him and Alfred grimaces. So much for that.

"Ah ha, oh yeah…"

In his mind he thinks of what the best route would be to get to his car without anyone seeing him. Then he'll humor Arthur while also not having to wear the horrible sweater beyond the hallways and garage of their apartment building. He can put it back on again when he gets home and pretend that he was wearing it the entire time he was studying. He's pleased with that plan, but it's a short-lived victory because Arthur speaks up shortly after he's made his decision.

"I think I'll come with you, I have some studying of my own to do."

All of the stars and planets truly are in alignment to kick his ass. Alfred can think up several ways to get out of this horrible mess, but in the end he decides to just accept his fate. It seems that no matter what he does, Arthur finds a way around it, so he might as well give in.

He manages to hide the sweater behind his coat, but once they reach the library he doesn't have that luxury anymore. To his horror Arthur picks a table that is fairly out in the open instead of the out of the way places he usually prefers.

The entire time he tries to seem small and invisible, but because the world is out to get him he swears he sees just about everyone he knows in the library that day. Every time a cute girl walks by and looks at him and his ugly sweater with the utmost amusement, Alfred wants to crawl under the table and die. At one point a couple of girls who flirt with him every time they come into the bookstore pass the table and notice him. They start giggling to each other and Alfred groans. He slams his head against the table as he thinks of how they're going to bring up the sweater the next time he sees them.

"Are you getting tired?" Arthur asks, and Alfred lifts his head to look at him.

Arthur doesn't look amused, so it can't be that he's taking pleasure in his pain. Actually, it seems as though he hasn't even noticed all of the humiliation and suffering, which is somehow even more irritating than Arthur laughing at him like everyone else. Even so, he nods.

"Yeah…guess I am. We should go home."

To Alfred's horror, they don't get very far out of the library before Arthur turns around and heads back, saying that he forgot something. Alfred tries to retreat to an out of the way place and pull on his coat, but he's not the least bit surprised when someone yells at him from across the street.

"Hey Jones, what's with the sweater? Your mom buy that for you?"

He almost yells back that no, his boyfriend made it for him, but he has a feeling that would just make the situation even worse. He whips around, but doesn't see who it is.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He hears laughter just as Arthur returns.

On the way home, Alfred tries to think of what his most viable options are. He wonders if changing his name and moving to a different country would work, or if pictures of him are already plastered all over the internet so he'll be recognized no matter where he goes. He's still stewing in his thoughts when they get back to their apartment, so he nearly crashes into Arthur standing still in the hallway.

"You can take it off now, by the way."

Alfred shakes his head back into awareness, and he blinks at Arthur. "What..?"

Arthur looks him over from head to toe, expression impassive. "The sweater. You can take it off. You've hated it the entire time, after all."

"What? You _noticed_?" Alfred gapes at Arthur, following after him as he heads for the kitchen.

"How couldn't I? You hated every minute of it. Especially when those girls passed by the table."

Alfred steps in front of Arthur before he can reach for his teapot and stares at him.

"Wait, so you _knew_ and you didn't try to stop me?"

Arthur pushes Alfred to the side and turns around, leaning against the counter. "You could have always said no."

"Yeah, but you _made_ it for me and you said you got the design from my _grandmother_ and I didn't want to disappoint you, so—"

"I didn't make it," Arthur says, interrupting him. Alfred freezes and slowly turns to stare at Arthur, who shrugs. "Your grandmother gave me a design, yes, but I'm still working on that. The sweater you're wearing was supposed to be a joke, but it was only funny until we got to the library and you looked like you were going to crush yourself under one of the bookshelves."

Alfred's eye twitches and, before Arthur can turn around, he grabs Arthur's wrists and pushes him back against the counter. Arthur's eyes widen, but his expression relaxes immediately.

"You did this on _purpose_? I'm going to get shit for this for probably months and you were just sitting there and letting it happen?"

"And? What are you going to do to me?"

Alfred can almost swear that Arthur looks _excited_ that he might be punished somehow. He doesn't want to think of what the implications of that might be. He tightens his hold on Arthur's wrists.

"I'm gonna…"

Arthur's eyes get brighter, and Alfred's anger starts to fade into exasperation that Arthur's actually enjoying this. Of course he'd never hurt Arthur, and he knows that Arthur knows this, but that Arthur might be a little—Alfred stops that thought. He shouldn't be surprised. He changes tacks.

"I'm gonna…take you outside and throw you into the snow!"

"What—no!"

Arthur's eyes widen and he starts to struggle, but Alfred easily picks him up and tosses him over his shoulder. Arthur flails as Alfred carries him out of the apartment to the stairwell.

"Put me down! Damn it, Alfred!"

At that moment Alfred is thankful that Arthur doesn't weigh much and is very easy to carry despite his flailing, and he ignores the squawking and horrible names he's being called on his way down the stairs and out to the back. He finds a nice deep pile of snow and tosses Arthur into it, and when Arthur sputters and sits up, Alfred drops an armful of snow on his head. He starts to laugh, but then Arthur grabs his leg and tugs, making him fall backwards into the snow.

Alfred sits up quickly and throws more snow at Arthur, who scowls and flings some back. Alfred finally stops and bursts out laughing. Arthur just shakes his head, but his scowl fades.

"You realize that this is only the beginning and I'm going to get you back good soon?" Alfred asks with a grin.

Arthur stands up and brushes himself off. "As long as it doesn't involve mistletoe."

Alfred stands up as well and runs in front of Arthur to look at him. "What? What's wrong with mistletoe?"

"It's annoying the way you wave it in my face like I wouldn't just kiss you anyway. I think we've been together long enough that you can feel comfortable kissing me without using a weed as an excuse." Arthur gives him a pointed look and walks by him.

Alfred's smile widens and he runs in front of Arthur again. "That so? Well. That's great! Mistletoe everywhere! You'll think you're safe and open a cabinet to grab your tea and suddenly mistletoe! And I'll be there to kiss you while you wonder where the hell the mistletoe came from!"

Arthur's face turns red and Alfred starts to laugh again. When Arthur shoves him back into the snow, Alfred pulls him along, still laughing.

Later, when Arthur is shivering and glaring into his cup of tea, Alfred is quick to offer him the ugly sweater to warm himself up.


	7. Mrs Jones

**Mrs. Jones**

**A/N: I realized that I neglected to upload this here, so have a very late Thanksgiving story, heh.  
**

* * *

Arthur slumps into a chair, loosening his tie a little as he lets out a deep sigh. From the moment he stepped into that house his stomach has been hurting—the ache only worsening as the house has filled with aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents, and all others who are curious about the man Alfred brought home for Thanksgiving. He's had brief respites with Matthew and Alfred, but the rest of the day has been filled with his clumsy attempts at making a good impression on Alfred's family. He's managed to escape personal questions he doesn't want to answer thus far, but he doesn't know what he'll do when dinner starts and he won't be able to excuse himself without seeming rude.

For that matter, he's not sure how he'll survive dinner when the point is to eat a lot and his stomach feels as though it will reject anything he attempts to put into it.

He shifts in the chair, feeling out of sorts in the nice suit he bought just for the occasion. The appreciative looks Alfred has been giving him all day have made the discomfort worth it, but overall he feels as though the night will end in miserable failure and Alfred will be shunned by his entire family.

The sitting room is empty, though, and Arthur closes his eyes to enjoy a break from the whirlwind of activity in the house before Alfred inevitably finds him and convinces him to jump right back into the fray. His eyes snap open when a shouting voice gets steadily closer to the room. He stiffens as Alfred's grandmother—her name escapes him—enters the room, throwing her arms into the air and ranting.

"I see how much this family appreciates me! Well, if Claudia doesn't want to know the proper way to season potatoes, that is her own fault. It won't be my problem when no one wants to eat them!"

She pauses as her gaze falls on him, and he stiffens as her expression brightens into a smile. It reminds him of Alfred, and he wonders if warm, beautiful smiles run in the Jones family. She approaches him and he sits up in a hurry, straightening his back and trying to look presentable.

"Oh yes, Alfred's beau! I had been wondering where you disappeared to. Now then, we haven't been properly introduced, have we? Iris Jones, my dear."

She holds out her hand, but Arthur swallows hard at the mention of that name. Iris Jones, the mother of Alfred's father—the Jones family matriarch, Alfred called her. Arthur can see why. She has the air and grace of a woman who has seen her family through good times and bad, crisis after crisis, and through it all has always emerged stronger and wiser. Her word is law, and no one thinks to question her judgment.

It's for that reason that Arthur's already weak stomach threatens to fail on him entirely.

"Arthur Kirkland, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice quivers a little, but his handshake is firm. He nods his acknowledgement at her as she pulls back and takes a seat in a nearby chair.

"Such a polite young man. With the way Claudia and Teddy were ranting and raving, I would have thought Alfred was bringing home some brute he found on the street."

Arthur forces a smile, choosing not to mention how very accurate that assessment actually is.

"But you look like you're going to be sick to your stomach, dear. Do you like tea? Alfie and Mattie never did, but a good cup of chamomile tea will soothe that ache. Claudia may complain, but making a bit of tea won't be intrusive. I'm sorry, how did you say you take your tea, dear?"

"I prefer loose leaf with a little honey, ma'am, but please don't trouble yourself."

She waves her hands and stands again. "Nonsense. I'll make us both a cup of tea and we can have a nice little chat, hmm? Don't go anywhere now!"

Arthur opens his mouth to protest, but she shuffles out of the room before he can refuse. He could always escape to a different room, but that would be horribly rude, and he'd be insulting the family matriarch this time. He loosens his tie a little more as he waits in nervous anticipation.

Before long, Iris appears in the doorway with two beautiful porcelain teacups, one of which she places in front of him.

"I wasn't sure how much sugar you took in your tea, but I can get the jar, if you'd like?" She gives him that warm smile again, and he blushes despite himself.

"Oh, no sugar, thank you." He reaches for the cup and saucer, taking a small sip. It's subtle, but with distinct flavors and just the right amount of honey. He finds himself wishing that making tea ran in the Jones family for those times that Alfred offers to make him tea. He takes another larger sip of the tea.

From her seat nearby, Iris smiles at him as she lowers her teacup. "How is your tea, dear?"

Arthur lowers his teacup as well and smiles—genuine—at her. "It's perfect, thank you. I wish Alfred could make a cup of tea like this."

He pauses as he considers his words. He's not sure how revealing those words are. She might not want to know such things—that yes, he lives with her grandson and they even sleep together. His cheeks start to warm and he quickly lifts the teacup again to hide it.

She laughs, however, but it's not at his expense. She leans back in her chair, looking the very picture of a respected family figure with her straight posture, carefully styled silver hair, tasteful clothes and jewelry, and the very delicate way she handles the teacup. She watches him with friendly blue eyes, though, and Arthur relaxes a little.

"Tell me, Arthur, how did you meet Alfie?"

Arthur inhales sharply, almost choking on his tea. He has no idea of how to best answer that question without insulting her and proving that he really is a horrible person and poor influence on Alfred.

_I forced sex on him and treated him poorly because my abusive childhood left me too emotionally stunted to acknowledge or even recognize the depth of my love for him._

That answer would most certainly get him kicked out of the house and possibly out of Alfred's life. He stares into the teacup and then back at Iris.

"We met at school."

It's not a complete lie, but she gives him a curious look as though she doesn't quite believe him. She doesn't press the issue, though.

"You still look like you're going to be sick. It won't do to vomit at the dinner table when you're obviously trying so hard to impress. I suppose you have your work cut out for you when my son and his wife have already decided that they don't like you. Alfred is dear to us all."

He doesn't answer, not wanting to think about the upcoming dinner and his still present nausea. When he remains quiet, she lowers the teacup and reaches into a bag for an embroidery hoop with a piece of cloth covered in a beautiful design of irises. He pushes the dinner out of his mind and focuses instead on the masterful way she works with the needle. He's satisfied with his level of skill with a needle and thread, but watching Iris he realizes how much further he has to go.

"That's beautiful. I've been trying to incorporate more flower designs into my needlework, but I still have a lot to learn."

"I've always liked irises, and not just because of my name." She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "So you know how to sew, dear?"

He nods. "Yes. I knit, as well."

She lowers the hoop, giving him an impressed look. "That scarf of Alfie's is your work then?"

He nods again, smiling slightly this time.

She smiles to herself and resumes her quick skillful work with the needle. "Hmm. I thought it looked too well made to have been purchased from a store."

Pride swells in his chest and bubbles to the surface in the form of a smile. He beams into the teacup, unsure of how to respond. He coughs, suppressing the smile as he takes another sip of tea.

"Tea and sewing… You have very interesting tastes, Arthur. Tell me, what else do you enjoy doing?"

"I love to read, Mrs. Jones," he says, and lowers the teacup and saucer to rest on the nearby table. He turns to give her his full attention, the uncomfortable churning in his stomach subsiding a little.

"I've always loved the written word myself. I was born in the wrong generation, I must say. Too young to join the women working the machines during the war, but too old to join the feminist movement in the sixties. I was already a mother by then and it wouldn't have been right. Oh, but I would have given them hell." She lowers the hoop, laughing as she looks at Arthur. "But books…_books_ were always my guaranteed escape to far off places when I had nowhere else to go. Oh, but you don't want to hear an old woman rambling. What is your favorite book, Arthur?"

Arthur watches her with a newfound awe and respect. Although there are clearly differences between them, he feels comfortable speaking with her because of the startling similarities. "On the contrary, Mrs. Jones, I know exactly how you feel. I've always loved _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, though I'm a fan of Shakespeare, as well."

"Hmm? Not to escape from Alfie?"

Arthur's eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head, afraid that he's managed to insult her, after all. "No, of course not! Alfred is—"

Iris laughs and holds up her hand to stop him. "My dear, I know that is not the case. Ah, but Shakespeare. I always wanted to be wooed with one of his sonnets, but it was not meant to be." She shakes her head as she returns to her embroidery.

"Sonnet 26 is one of my favorites."

He decides not to include _Hamlet_ in that assessment, as Iris already gives him a look that says she knows exactly what sonnet he's referring to. She regards him for a moment, as if sizing him up, and he tries not to wilt under her pointed gaze. At length, she rests her hands in her lap.

"You've been gravely misjudged, Arthur. It's true that I too had been hoping Alfie would bring home a nice girl and I'd soon enjoy the presence of my great grandchildren, but I'm also terribly fond of Alfie and cannot agree with what his parents are doing to him. I'll admit that I am set in my ways myself, but I also will not frown upon my dear grandson finding love, no matter the source, especially if that love is returned... You _do_ love him, don't you?"

This is a test, Arthur realizes. This is the moment where he can earn her respect and approval or lose it forever. Admitting his feelings for Alfred out loud has always been a difficult task for him, but he won't back down this time. He holds his head up, meeting her gaze without wavering.

"Yes. I love him from the bottom of my heart," he says without missing a beat.

Iris's expression softens, and she nods. Arthur's heart flutters and he starts to smile, but rapid footsteps make them both look towards the open doorway to see Alfred appear.

"Hey, sweetheaaaarthur. Arthur. How's it going?" The pet name slurs into Arthur's name when Alfred notices his grandmother in the room with Arthur. Alfred adjusts his own tie and shifts uncomfortably.

Iris stands and waves a dismissive hand as she approaches him. "Now now, Alfie. There's no need for this pretend business of yours. If you want to refer to your sweetheart as such then you should just do so."

Alfred's face turns a shade of red that Arthur has never seen before. He finds it very charming, but Alfred's eyes widen.

"_Grandma!_"

Iris chuckles and pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at Arthur before she turns her attention to Alfred once more. "Alfie, I know you usually sit by your cousins, but I would like to sit by Arthur this year, hmm? I'll see you at dinner, my dear."

She leaves the room, and Arthur wonders if she was referring to him or to Alfred with that last pet name. Alfred watches her leave then turns to give Arthur an incredulous look.

"Wow! If you got Grandma Jones's approval then no one will mess with you!"

Arthur smiles, but it's a reminder that he still has to make it through dinner and impress the rest of Alfred's family. The weak, threatening feeling returns to his stomach at the thought. He stands up and crosses the room to take Alfred's hand in his. Alfred tilts his head to the side, but he squeezes Arthur's hand.

"Your grandmother is a lovely woman," Arthur says.

"She is, isn't she? The rest of my family is really great, too. They just…need to give you a chance."

Arthur nods, not trusting his voice anymore. He releases Alfred's hand so he can adjust his tie and suit, and he closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath. When he opens them, Alfred gives him a reassuring smile, which Arthur tries to return as they leave the room.


	8. Domesticity

**Domesticity  
**

* * *

Arthur squints his eyes open when light seeping in through the window stirs him from sleep. He manages to get out from under the weight of Alfred's arm so he can glance over Alfred's shoulder at the clock. It's nearly nine, which is very late for him. He groans and flops back down onto the pillow for a moment, running his hand over his face before he turns to get out of bed. Before he can move, arms hook around him and pull him back into an embrace.

"Let go of me, Alfred," Arthur says as his face is nuzzled. "I want to get up."

"Mm. No. It's cold and you're warm." Alfred yawns and hooks their legs together, further preventing Arthur from getting up. "It's a weekend. Let's just stay in bed for awhile."

If he wanted to, Arthur could definitely get up and Alfred wouldn't hold it against him, but he finds he doesn't want to. How often do they have the same day off with nothing that absolutely needs to be done? He rolls over so that he faces Alfred, then he further tangles their limbs together.

"Remember that this was your idea when you complain that you need to take a piss."

But Alfred is already snoring lightly in his ear, making Arthur sigh. He closes his eyes and wills himself to doze a little longer.

* * *

Naturally their morning cuddling session ends with Alfred complaining that he needs to piss, but Arthur has no problems following him into the bathroom to brush his teeth while Alfred takes care of things. Alfred shoulders him out of the way so he can grab his own toothbrush, but Arthur grunts and shoves Alfred back so they share the small sink. Although they scowl at each other in the mirror as they brush their teeth, they are quick to kiss when they are done, smiling against each other's lips as mint mixes with bubblegum.

* * *

"You gonna finish your pancakes?"

Arthur raises an eyebrow at Alfred, who shovels the last forkful of his large stack of pancakes in his mouth and motions to Arthur's much smaller breakfast. Arthur pulls his plate away and swats Alfred's hand.

"Yes. I am. Order more if you're still hungry." Arthur takes a bite of his pancakes to prove his point, but Alfred pouts.

"But then I'll just order another of those big breakfasts that's got all the meat and hash browns!"

Arthur pauses in his chewing to give Alfred an incredulous look. "You're telling me that you have no self-control?"

Alfred nods. "Yes!"

Arthur rolls his eyes, but he cuts off a large piece of his pancakes to transfer over to Alfred's plate. "Here, and you can have the sausage, too. We'll make more pancakes when we get home."

Alfred's eyes brighten, but he's quick to give Arthur a pointed look. "You mean _I'll_ make more pancakes. The reason we're here in the first place is because your cooking sucks and you nearly burned down the apartment building."

"Eat your damn pancakes," Arthur says and sticks a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

* * *

"Let's see, we still need to get hamburger buns, spaghetti sauce and cereal. Oh, and we can't forget the milk again," Alfred says as he pushes their shopping cart into the cereal aisle. He heads straight for the sugary cereals, but Arthur grabs the cart and pulls it to a stop.

"Get something that's not full of sugar. Like corn flakes."

"Aww come on, corn flakes are boring. Besides, Lucky Charms are on sale! Look!" Alfred pushes the cart ahead again, pausing before the display of Lucky Charms cereal.

"You know I don't like anything with too much sugar," Arthur says and grabs a box of sensible corn flakes anyway.

Alfred wrinkles his nose at the cornflakes, but smiles at Arthur. "You sure don't mind kissing me after I've eaten something with a lot of sugar."

Alfred waggles his eyebrows, and Arthur snorts. "Get some ice cream if that's your goal. I'm not interested in cereal kisses."

"Is that an invitation? Let's get some ice cream then!"

Alfred takes off with the cart before Arthur can intercept the Lucky Charms cereal, but he is quick to follow before Alfred buys more ice cream than they can afford.

It's not until they get home that they realize they forgot the milk.

* * *

Arthur peers over at Alfred's book, which is some science fiction story with a lot of aliens and amazing heroes saving the galaxy from utter destruction. Alfred adjusts his head on Arthur's shoulder, so Arthur turns back to his book. He leans his head against Alfred's, careful not to let his reading glasses slip, and reads his adult entertainment literature which is in no way porn.

They opted to sit in bed while they read this time, a decision which Arthur regrets they hadn't made before. It's much more comfortable this way, and Alfred leaning against him feels much more natural.

"We should read in bed together more often," Alfred says, interrupting Arthur's thoughts. "Makes it a lot easier when we want to fall asleep."

Arthur lifts his head and pulls off his glasses, setting his book to the side. "Or if we want to do something else, hmm?"

Alfred also sits up and sets his book to the side. He sighs as though exasperated, but his smile is wide. "You're such a perv."

Arthur shrugs, but he's also quick to smile as Alfred reaches for him.


	9. I'm Not Looking at Anyone But You

**I'm Not Looking at Anyone But You  
**

**A/N: I just want to apologize for what will likely be a long stretch of no updates. I currently have a busy/stressful schedule that makes it near impossible to find the time or drive to write, so I'm sorry if I only post old stuff (like this) or the occasional dopey update for awhile! orz**

* * *

Arthur shifts as the plastic of the rented beach chair digs into his legs, which are not as covered as he'd like them to be. As he tries to settle himself into a comfortable position, giggling to his right makes him frown.

A couple of girls sit on beach towels near Arthur's chair and umbrella, and they giggle to each other as they stare at someone near the water. Arthur doesn't need to look to know that they're watching Alfred, and he glares at them behind his sunglasses. He can't say he blames them, since he knows very well that Alfred makes an unreasonably attractive beachgoer. That doesn't stop his irritation.

Alfred for his part has been completely oblivious to the attention he's getting. Instead he's building sandcastles near the water with a couple of children and paying no attention to the cute girls in bikinis who are giggling about how they want to meet him. Arthur narrows his eyes at them and instead focuses on Alfred.

Rather, he focuses on Alfred's toned arms and bare chest, which have tanned nicely since they got there. His skin is glistening from sweat and suntan oil, and Arthur wants to run his hands over those abs and lick up the trail leading— He inhales a sharp breath when he realizes his mouth is hanging open.

"I'm going to go talk to him!"

Arthur snaps back to attention to look over at the girls again, one of whom is standing up and heading down the beach to the water while her friend cheers her on. He watches as the girl approaches Alfred, who stops his sandcastle building to smile brightly at her. Arthur doesn't have to wonder what they're talking about, because it's not long before Alfred's face turns a bright shade of red that is noticeable even from where Arthur is sitting. From the way Alfred looks away and fidgets, Arthur knows that he's babbling.

He buries his face in his book as the girl comes back, but peers over it just in time to see her disappointed face as she sits next to her friend.

"He says he has a boyfriend!"

Arthur's heart races and he further buries his face in his book lest they look over at him and realize he's the boyfriend that Alfred is referring to. His cheeks burn knowing that Alfred can casually admit to such a thing. When they don't acknowledge him and continue talking about how unfair it is that someone like Alfred plays for the other team, Arthur lowers his book.

It's a decision he regrets, since he spots Alfred waving frantically at him. Arthur sighs and contemplates pretending that he didn't see—he's wearing sunglasses, after all—and going back to reading. When Alfred starts waving both of his arms, however, Arthur sighs and sets the book to the side. He stands up and hesitates. While he was firm in his refusal to take off his shirt, Alfred managed to convince him to wear shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. His pale, scrawny limbs are unsightly amidst the tanned bodies on the beach, but he holds his head up in defiance and leaves the shelter of the umbrella to see what Alfred wants. He doesn't look, but he wonders if the girls from before notice him.

"Look at our sandcastle!" Alfred gestures with great enthusiasm at the sand as Arthur walks up.

Arthur lifts up his sunglasses, and he has to admit that it really is a rather impressive sandcastle, with multiple towers and little windows carved into the sand. A little boy is adding miniature flags to the towers, while a little girl stares at him and Alfred with a suspicious look on her face. Arthur puts his sunglasses back on and turns to Alfred.

"It's very nice. All of your hard work paid off."

Alfred beams, and just as Arthur starts to return the smile, the little girl stands up and rushes to Alfred's side, grabbing onto his arm.

"Alfred's _my_ boyfriend," the girl says and stares at Arthur with puffed out cheeks.

Arthur bristles, but just as he's about to snap back that it's not true, he catches himself before he can say anything. How ridiculous it would be if he snapped at a little girl like that. He turns to Alfred, who just gives him a sheepish smile. He sighs and turns to head back to the safety of the umbrella. He pauses when he hears the sound of Alfred's voice, and he looks behind him.

"Ah—wait! Hey guys, why don't you go tell your mom? Bet she'd like to see this!"

The little girl stays still for a moment, but her brother calls after her and she finally releases Alfred's arm. As the two children run up the beach, Alfred steps to Arthur's side. Arthur looks away from Alfred and heads back to the umbrella with quick steps.

"What's wrong, Arthur? Wait, you're not seriously jealous of Katie, are you? She's just a kid so I thought I'd play along!"

"Of course I'm not jealous of a little girl, Alfred. Don't say such stupid things."

As they near the umbrella, the two girls who'd been giggling over Alfred watch them, and Arthur grimaces. Alfred looks over at them as well and his eyes widen. He runs in front of Arthur and tries to make eye contact, which Arthur avoids.

"Is it…cause of that girl who was talking to me before?" Alfred asks, but the way he says it makes Arthur certain that he already knows the answer.

"No, of course not." Arthur says it far too quickly, though, and Alfred's face softens.

"Hey, don't be jealous!"

Arthur grunts and takes a seat again, picking up his book with an irritated swat in Alfred's direction. Alfred just laughs and sits next to him, leaning over close.

"Come on. Who needs bikini girls when I've got my sweetheart right here? All pale and grumpy."

Alfred nuzzles his face, and Arthur shoves him away. He blushes despite himself, though, which just makes him even more irritated.

"Yes, pale and skinny and completely out of place at this beach. I don't know why I thought this would ever be a good thing." Arthur frowns and tries to resume reading his book, but Alfred plucks it out of his hands. Before Arthur can snap at him, though, Alfred gives him a very earnest look.

"I'm not looking at anyone but you," Alfred says, and his eyes are full of unabashed adoration.

Arthur's cheeks flare up and he coughs into a fist. As he huffs and tries to say something, Alfred continues to watch him with the same look. Arthur finally clears his throat and adjusts his posture. "Don't say things like that so easily."

"It's true, though. I have all I want right here." Alfred grins at him and Arthur's cheeks burn again.

"You're going to make your girlfriend jealous. Better be careful," Arthur says and takes his book out of Alfred's hands.

"Heh. Yeah. Better go check on her, eh? Wouldn't want to ruin our 'date'!"

Alfred stands up and, after flashing Arthur a thumbs up, jogs back down the beach. Arthur watches him for a moment then turns to see the girls from before staring at him. He can't help himself, and he gives them a small, smug smile as he adjusts himself in his chair and opens his book.


	10. Warm Snuggles

**Warm Snuggles  
**

**A/N: Needed to write some cuddles, so here you go. :D**

* * *

Alfred looks up, gaze settling on a flushed face and eyes staring at him with utter adoration. He blushes and lowers his head to give a goofy smile to his cereal.

"Do you have anything to do today?"

Alfred looks up again into the syrupy sweet expression on Arthur's face. Technically he was going to go to the library to work on drawing up the plans for a robot, but it's nothing that needs to be done right away. Much more appealing is the thought of staying home with his cuddly boyfriend. His _sick_, cuddly boyfriend, but cuddly boyfriend nonetheless.

"Ahh…nope! I thought I'd stay in today!"

Arthur's hazy expression brightens, making Alfred smile. When Alfred gets up to put his bowl in the sink, Arthur follows behind him, continuing to follow even when Alfred leaves the kitchen.

Despite his guilty enjoyment of Arthur's tendency to be extremely affectionate while ill, the fact remains that Arthur is ill and Alfred wants him to get better. He takes advantage of Arthur's puppy-like need to follow him and heads back to their bedroom, where he sits on the bed. He holds his arms open for Arthur to crawl into, and he wonders if he'll go to hell for enjoying the way Arthur snuggles his overly warm face into Alfred's neck and wraps around him.

"Precious. I love you." The words are slightly slurred and muffled, but the sincere emotion is still there.

Alfred can feel Arthur's smile as his neck is nuzzled, and he wraps Arthur up in a tighter hug. "God, you're so cute. This is so unfair," Alfred says, and he knows that if Arthur wasn't sick then there would be plenty of kisses mixed in with that sappy cuddling. But Arthur _is_ sick, so he can't act on that desire.

"Mmm, I love you," Arthur repeats, and he tilts his head so he can gaze up at Alfred with droopy but adoring eyes.

Alfred's expression softens and because he won't be shoved away for doing it, he nuzzles his nose against Arthur's and grins. "And I love you like crazy, sweetheart. So get some rest, all right? I'll be here with you all day."

Arthur nods and rests his face against Alfred's neck again, and while Alfred knows he'll get very hot and possibly catch whatever Arthur has, he holds Arthur close. Perhaps his presence will banish any nightmares, too.


	11. Happy Pi Day!

**Happy Pi Day!  
**

**A/N: In honor of Pi Day, a story. :D**

* * *

Although he has grown mostly used to Alfred's strange whims, the last thing Arthur expects when he gets home is to find three pies cooling on the kitchen counter, as well as what looks like a mostly eaten pie next to them. It's also hot to the touch, though. He frowns, turning around to see Alfred standing in the doorway with a bright smile on his face.

"Happy Pi Day!" Alfred throws his arms in the air, but all Arthur can do is gape at him.

"…pie day?" Arthur has the thought of some international baking day and Alfred jumping at the opportunity to make a bunch of pies just for the sake of eating a bunch of pie.

"Yeah! You know, three point one four one five nine two six—"

When Arthur gives him a blank look, Alfred stops, though his smile stays wide. "It's March 14th! Three point one four! So I made three point one four pies to celebrate. Did all the measurements and calculations, so I'm confident that the last pie is exactly point one four."

Arthur continues to stare at Alfred—who looks very pleased with himself—as suddenly everything falls into place. Yes, Alfred was quite insistent on wearing his octo_pi _shirt that morning, and he turns to look back at the pies, noting how the one he thought was mostly eaten is cut so precisely that it had to be deliberate. He starts to chuckle, but it quickly dissolves into full belly laughter.

"You are such a nerd." Arthur wipes at his eyes, trying to get his laughter under control.

Alfred's smile fades for a moment, but it quickly comes back. He steps forward and starts pushing and poking at Arthur. "What? Did you seriously just call me a nerd?"

Arthur tries to swat him away, but he's too busy laughing to put up much of a fight. "You are! A nerd, you are the biggest nerd."

He continues to laugh, unable to resist as Alfred scoops him up and carries him out of the kitchen to toss him on the sofa. Despite his frown, Alfred's amusement is plain as day.

"You don't get any of my pie then," Alfred says and sticks out his tongue. He pulls away and heads back to the kitchen, presumably to start eating some of the pie.

Arthur snorts and rolls onto his back. "Exactly point one four, he says. Oh hell, I'm in love with a nerd."

He runs his hand over his face, grinning.


	12. Comfort

**Comfort**

**A/N: It seems I've built up a backlog of short stories, so I'll be slowly posting these over the next couple of weeks.  
**

* * *

He's running.

His chest is on fire and his legs threaten to buckle beneath him, but if he stops for even a moment his pursuer will catch him.

He rounds a corner, pausing for a moment to take a few heaving breaths, and then he's running again. That brief pause proves to be a mistake, as he feels icy fingers reaching for his neck.

"—thur? Sweetheart?"

He stumbles at the sound of someone calling him, and he rolls onto his back just in time for his pursuer to reach for him, wrapping cold hands around his neck and—

"Arthur!"

His eyes snap open and he sucks in a sharp breath, staring into blackness. When his eyes focus, he finds himself in their bedroom staring up into Alfred's concerned face. He sucks in another breath and sits up, sweating despite how much he's trembling. He presses his hands to his face and tries to calm his breathing.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Alfred rubs his back, and the sudden contact makes Arthur stiffen. Alfred pulls his hand away, and Arthur grimaces. He hates that he still has these moments of weakness. He hates even more that he can't just tell Alfred that he had a nightmare and _wants_ the comfort.

"I…need to calm down," he finally says, the words coming out in a choked croak.

Alfred is quiet for a moment before he speaks. "…you want a hug?"

Arthur pauses, considering that offer for a moment. He turns to give what he hopes is an expression Alfred will understand. Sure enough, Alfred reaches for him and wraps him into a loose embrace. The moment his face presses to Alfred's shoulder, Arthur's muscles relax and he closes his eyes. Alfred kisses the top of his head and then nuzzles him, and Arthur lets out a shuddering breath.

"Shh, sweetheart," Alfred says and starts rubbing Arthur's back again.

Rather than depend on words he's not sure he has, Arthur kisses Alfred's shoulder and lifts his arms to wrap around Alfred, remaining like that until sleep finally takes him again.


	13. Happy in Being Together

**Happy in Being Together  
**

**A/N: The poem is by Walt Whitman. :)  
**

* * *

"You know, hot dogs are the last thing I'd ever expect you to be a fan of."

Arthur lowers his hot dog to turn to smirk at Alfred instead. "I happen to like long pieces of meat."

Alfred blushes and takes a swift bite of his chili dog, and Arthur laughs. Alfred is quick to settle down, though, and he finishes his chili dog within a few bites. As Arthur chews on his hot dog, he feels Alfred's hand on top of his at his side. He turns his hand over, threading their fingers before he resumes eating.

When they've both finished they sit in a comfortable silence, hands clasped at their sides. Arthur alternates his gaze between the people passing by and Alfred's face, which is soft with a pleasant smile. Arthur looks down at their hands and rubs his thumb over the back of Alfred's hand. Alfred's response is to squeeze a little harder and Arthur turns to look in front of him.

"A glimpse through an interstice caught,

Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark'd seated in a corner,

Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,

A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,

There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word."

Alfred is silent, which is to be expected, but then he speaks up. "…roses are red, violets are blue, I can't do poetry, but I really love you?"

After a moment to parse Alfred's words, Arthur snorts then bursts out laughing, and he releases Alfred's hand to clutch at his stomach. At his side, Alfred is scowling.

"Don't laugh! I was trying to be all nice and shit, but excuuuuse me for not being Mr. Fancy Schmancy words like you."

Arthur wipes at his eyes and grabs Alfred's hand again, kissing the back of it between chuckles. "Don't be mad, Alfred. It was hilarious, but I appreciate the sentiment."

Alfred scowls a moment longer but then softens, sighing as he squeezes Arthur's hand. "Yeah well. That's someone else's poem, yeah? I still think you should write your own."

Arthur frowns. "And I still say that no words could ever do you justice."

Alfred shrugs, grinning slightly. "Doesn't have to be about me. You could write about nature or something. Or hey, write a poem about Hero. Bet you could do something really wordy and poetic about him! Or if you really want to write something about me, you could start with the pet names you have for me? I know you've got some."

It's Arthur's turn to blush and he coughs into his free hand. "But those are embarrassing. And sappy. That's too much."

That just makes Alfred's face light up, and he laughs. "Aww, come on, sweetheart! Pleeeease? I wanna hear you be sappy and embarrassing."

Arthur feels his blush reach his ears and he bows his head. He fiddles with Alfred's hand and clears his throat. "My precious love. My dearest darling. My beautiful, beautiful boy. My beloved and my true."

Alfred is silent again, and it makes Arthur feel horribly uncomfortable. He feels exposed and vulnerable, and he contemplates fleeing before Alfred can continue the awkward silence. Before he can bolt, Alfred shifts his weight.

"…wow, that makes me calling you 'sweetheart' sound really dumb in comparison, ha ha."

He thought his blush couldn't get any hotter, but his cheeks warm further. He grinds his teeth, but coughs out a reply. "I like being sweetheart, though."

"Yeah, I know."

Arthur looks up into Alfred's soft smile, and he lowers his head again, grumbling to himself. Alfred rubs the back of his hand, though, and it's a very pleasant feeling.


	14. Those Two Guys: Gilbert

**Those Two Guys: Gilbert  
**

**A/N: Alfred and Arthur's relationship from other characters' POVs. This one is from Gilbert's.  
**

* * *

Agreeing to spend a weekend with Jones was probably one of the dumber decisions he's made as of late, considering what happened before, but Gilbert is also very fond of pissing off Jones. The added bonus of making Kirkland's life more difficult made the deal even sweeter.

Compared to the two guys who were trying to hide that they were in a relationship, Gilbert is not prepared to handle the Jones and Kirkland he encounters when he gets in their apartment. They not only have no issue kissing, but they also seem to go out of their way to make out in front of him. It's all very loud and very graphic, and Gilbert finds it disgusting.

When they finally settle down to play video games as originally intended, Kirkland curls up in Jones's lap, and they nuzzle their faces together until Gilbert looks away, rolling his eyes. Jones loads up Minecraft, and Gilbert frowns when he sees Kirkland holding a controller, too. Jones looks at him and smiles.

"Me and Arthur against you. First one to make a diamond sword and kill the other wins."

Gilbert shrugs. "Feh. Not like Kirkland will be a challenge anyway. Don't bitch when I kill your boyfriend, Jones."

So he says, but even though Kirkland is terrible—all things considered—he's better than Gilbert thought he'd be. At one point he finds his house on fire and Kirkland running away from it.

"Fuck you, Kirkland!" Gilbert snaps and tries to put out the flames before his house burns down, while Kirkland and Jones laugh and give each other a high-five.

It's an odd thing to see, and for a moment Gilbert just gapes at them. They notice and resume the disgusting kissing and cuddling, and Gilbert realizes what they're doing.

"I love you," Jones says, and the look on Kirkland's face before they kiss is anything but fabricated.

Despite how bizarre it is to see Kirkland acting like that, it's far more irritating that they're doing it in the first place.

"Get a room," Gilbert says and tries to focus on the game.

Kirkland and Jones, however, stop abruptly and shrug, then they get up and walk away with each other.

Gilbert sits and blinks in confusion, but his question is quickly answered. He hears thumping followed by moaning.

"Ah! Alfred!"

"Arthur! Oohh!"

The sounds continue, increasing in volume and frequency until Gilbert throws his controller across the room.

"Oh my fucking god! Don't you assholes have neighbors?"


	15. Uncertainty

**Uncertainty  
**

**A/N: A bit of Alfred's POV from the story "Marmalade".  
**

* * *

It's probably being very cowardly to avoid going home because he knows Arthur will be there, but the extended silences and lack of something as simple as eye contact have been so disconcerting that even spending long hours in the library has seemed like a more desirable way to pass the time.

Even so, Alfred has been reading the same sentence over and over for what has probably been about 45 minutes, and the words pass right through him each time. Even if he's avoiding home, his thoughts often drift back to Arthur.

How does he move on after Arthur ran out on him again? He wants Arthur home—he's _thrilled_ that Arthur is back home—but that doesn't erase the anger and the hurt. No matter how much he wants to just go home and pull Arthur into his arms and never let go, he doesn't want what happened to be okay. But he has no idea what to say to Arthur that could help them move forward rather than back.

He leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh. He stares at the ceiling for a moment before he tips forward again and glares at the sentence he's been reading and re-reading. After another attempt to parse the sentence, he looks in his backpack and finds the bear Elizaveta gave him there. He looked like he needed it, she said. He's not sure what she meant by that, but he's never really been into bears. He can't exactly get rid of something a friend gave him, though, so he supposes it will just be a random decorative bear in the apartment.

Just thinking about the apartment makes his chest tighten, but he supposes he's wasted enough time that day. He can't avoid Arthur forever. He doesn't want to.

* * *

Alfred stiffens when he hears the front door open, but he is slow to push his laptop away and get off the bed to go see if it's Arthur.

He does find Arthur in the kitchen staring at the teddy bear he left there, but then Arthur looks at him and quickly averts his gaze. Alfred's chest tightens again, but he swallows the lump in his throat and presses on.

"Oh, sorry about the bear. A friend gave it to me. Pretty cute, huh?"

Arthur mumbles some sort of disagreement and starts to push out of the kitchen, but Alfred clears his throat.

"Oh, by the way...I'm going to be spending some time with my friends all day tomorrow, so we might not get to have breakfast together...if that's okay?"

Arthur pauses in the doorway but doesn't look back, and Alfred almost wants to ask Arthur why he won't look at him.

"That's fine," Arthur finally says and then vanishes.

Alfred sighs and pulls off his glasses, running his hand through his hair. Love shouldn't be this hard, but he has no idea what to say or do.

The door to Arthur's room is closed when he goes to check, and he lifts a hand to push it open but shrinks back at the last moment. He trudges back to his room, feeling like maybe this won't work out after all.

* * *

His friends remain a great distraction from his ongoing relationship woes, but although he and Eduard decided to make a movie of their own for no reason other than to say they did, Ivan had to go and ruin the project by checking up on Eduard and Toris. At least that's what he said, but more likely he just wanted to ruin Alfred's day.

The interruption means that he has to go home, even if only briefly, and he hates that even for a moment he dreads the thought. Arthur is his _sweetheart_ for crying out loud, he reminds himself, but there is always the possibility that he won't ever get to call Arthur that ever again. Maybe they'll never be comfortable enough with each other again that he can call Arthur his sweetheart the way he used to.

Arthur isn't sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea or reading on the sofa when Alfred gets home, leaving him unsure if Arthur is even home. The thought is both disappointing and a relief. When he passes by Arthur's room, though, he finds the door wide open. He pauses when he sees Arthur inside and his heart flutters.

Rather than reading or petting Hero, though, Arthur is lying on his bed and hugging the teddy bear that Alfred left there. He has a silly smile on his face as he holds the bear close, and Alfred feels his own mouth turn up into a smile. It grows as he watches Arthur and for a moment the doubts he's had about their relationship drift away.

Here is the boy he fell in love with. Underneath that rough exterior is someone warm and beautiful, who enjoys Shakespeare and tea, dotes on his cat and hugs teddy bears in secret. Despite the troubles and the bad feelings, Alfred is still out of his head in love with Arthur. That hasn't changed.

Arthur looks up, noticing him standing in the doorway and grinning, and his face pales and he throws the bear across the room.

"Weren't you going to spend time with your friends?" Arthur's voice is strained, and Alfred's smile widens.

"Ivan showed up and ended things early. Hell if I'm going to spend my free time with that guy." He shrugs and regards Arthur fondly. "So...you like the teddy bear, huh?"

Arthur blushes and looks down at the floor, shaking his head. "I don't—just because I was—"

Alfred can't help but laugh, but he also crosses the room to pick up the thrown teddy bear and bring it back over to the bed, where he sits down. He holds up the bear in front of his face and looks at Arthur.

"Awww, how can you say no to this face, Arthur? Mr. Bear loves you!"

Arthur swipes the bear out of his hands and looks back down at the floor. "Marmalade."

Alfred blinks, wondering if Arthur is asking for food. "Eh? Marmalade?"

"His name is Marmalade." Arthur clears his throat and although his face is turned away, Alfred can see the blush on his ears.

"Ahhh...okay, then. Marmalade!" Warmth fills him and he can't help but find it adorable that Arthur even thought to name the bear.

Arthur looks up at him, and his scowl is quick to fade into a lost look. Alfred also lets his smile fade and this time he looks at the floor.

"I think...we need to talk a little. That's how this whole mess got started, right? Because we don't always communicate. So I think we should work on getting better at that."

"Yes," Arthur says, the word choked. "I suppose we do."

* * *

Alfred steps away from the room, lifting a hand to touch his lips. He feels both better and more unsure now that he's kissed Arthur again. He's tempted to go back and kiss Arthur senseless because the hesitant kisses were nice, but not quite enough. He also knows that doing that would be pushing something that is still fragile and full of uncertainty, so small steps are best. Still, it was nice to tell Arthur the things he's been thinking about since Arthur left, to reaffirm Arthur as his sweetheart and to kiss him again after so long without.

He licks his lips, still tasting Arthur's kiss there, and heads for the kitchen to study. Maybe he'll be able to get past that sentence now.


End file.
